


The Fright to Rule

by Slykylar



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1545320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slykylar/pseuds/Slykylar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'A hunter, shunned from his homeland due to forbidden love. A prince, turned to darkness and theft. His sister, betrayed by their one last hope at survival. A Queen, harbouring a dark secret. Her associate, thirsty for gold beyond his right. A human princess, returned from the dead with a need for her loved ones' blood. A peaceful Forest Queen. Their paths will cross, in a big way.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Casting - Keltoi

“Kel, put down that fucking knife and concentrate for once, would you?”

Tayler’s hands went to her hips, her robes making a whoosh as she pressed air out of one of the many folds the garments made as they fell from her small frame. Expressed on her face was the annoyance and slight humour that carried in her tone, a telltale smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. I twirled the weapon in my hands a few times more, the glowing moonlight reflecting off of the blade that was almost as long as my forearm.

“It’s a dagger, Tay, not a knife. Knives are for butchers and cooks, a dagger is for someone who knows how to use it.” I examined the blade some more, looking over each inch of the hand crafted object. I had made it myself, quite obviously, the blade curving uneven at the probably counterproductive jagged point and the hilt being held together by toughened strips of leather. It wasn’t much, but it was from my own hand, and such I felt a particular fondness towards it, something like pride.

“And like you know how to use it. Keltoi, seriously, we’re mages, not cutthroat bandits like the peasants, start acting like it.”

“Well, maybe you’re a mage, but it’s quite clear that I am not cut out for that lifestyle,” I shot back, digging the blade into the grass at my feet. The bile tasted foul in my mouth as I once again lamented about how the one hereditary trait that is the key to being accepted and excelling in Blood Elf culture and social standings had manifested solely in my twin sister, leaving me with what the others saw as a ‘quirky’ and ‘mildly disturbing’ fascination with the arts of stealth.

“You are, though,” Tayler said, “You’re royalty, you have the royal magic inside you somewhere, I can feel it, and I can see it when we train. You just haven’t grown into it yet, which is the entire point of these damn lessons that you spend most of which playing with that stupid fucking toy.” Angrily she gestured to the upended dagger in the dirt, and the grass around it ignited. Surprised by the sudden flames, I recoiled, and they extinguished almost instantly, Tayler cursing in equal surprise. I levelled my eyes at her.  
“Careful there, hothead,” I said with a sly grin. She groaned, and stalked over to slap me over the head, forcefully.

“That was terrible. Now can we get on with this? Our Casting is only a few weeks away and we can’t waste any more time. Now, how about we try again with the fireball?” She grabbed my wrists and flipped them so my palms were facing each other, my fingers held loosely apart, like I was holding a large orb in my hands. Once she was satisfied that my hands were once again in the right position, and free from the dagger, she released her grip, and took a step back. “You know what to do,” she said.

And I did. How could I not, honestly. It had been drilled into us nearly every day for over half our lives at the Magicians’ Academy, and even at home with our over bearing parents. It was a reminder, every day, that I could not and would never be like the others, and I struggled with each and every trial they gave us to perform. Tayler, however, was a prodigy. Her magic was flawless, beautiful, and she could control it and contort it effortlessly. For that, our father loved her, adored her, placed her on a pedestal and groomed her for our positions of high standing and power more than he ever would with me. That was another difference between my twin and I; while she couldn’t wait to be in that position, I felt sick at the mere thought of it.

When it first became apparent to me, and quite possibly everyone else, that I held no magic of any normal regard, it was brushed off as a late bloomer kind of deal. But as the years went on, it became harder and harder for me to produce anything along the sort of acceptable magic, and Tayler, being the supportive sister she is, put in extra effort to help me along, sometimes even simultaneously performing bother her trial and mine, while I fumbled about with the air and made it look like I was concentrating.  
But with each passing day, my lack of magic became more and more apparent, and so did the utter disappointment of my parents. Magic is a social must in Blood Elven society – it’s a part of who we are as a people and anything less is not tolerated. Someone without magic is treated like a dead end in the evolution of our species, of our race, and is either banished, or, the more likely option, executed by beheading. Anyone whose magic deviates from the offensive/passive useful categories that are enforced by the noble blooded houses suffers the same fate. Deviation and difference is not something to be proud of in our culture, which is why Tayler insists so strongly that we do these midnight secret lessons, so that I may come into my ‘sleeping potential’ and put myself back on the right track. Even if I knew deep inside of me that it was futile.

“Clear the mind…” I muttered, “Focus on the action… Relax and let the energy flow… Shape the energy and give it life…” It was almost a cultish mantra, the way they droned it in the giant halls of the Academy, echoing almost ominously around, reverberating within each and every one of our skulls. Regardless of my own pessimistic view of these actions, I attempted every night when we practiced, if not for my own safety, but for Tayler’s peace of mind. She didn’t have to help me, she could have watched me fall further and further behind and deeper into despair and rejoiced when I was held accountable for my shortcomings. But she helped anyway. She took time out of her day to help me try and beat the bad hand I’d been dealt, and gave all her energy into hiding this horrible truth from everyone she could, even though it was starting to become rather obvious. There were times when her unwavering faith and optimism that I would master the magic I had made me believe it too. She gave me hope.  
Closing my eyes, I placed all of my energy and focus into igniting the space between my hands. I visualised the air burning, a small sphere at first, but the expanding to fill the void. I imagined the heart the naked flames would give off, how it would feel against my skin and my robed body. I continued to practice this vivid visualisation for a long while, but as each minute ticked on, my hope that tonight would be the night I succeeded began to diminish. The shame of being such a failure hit me again then, like a terrible cold wave. I wanted to disappear, I didn’t want anyone to look upon my face, as if doing so would pass on this deadly curse I had. I could feel the icy coldness spread from my chest to the rest of my body.

“Keltoi…” Tayler warned, “No parlour tricks. If you can reach your magic like that, you can manipulate it to your will, you have to have control. No tricks, just fire.” But she was wrong. I had no control over whatever kind of magic was actually inside of me. Every instructor and every other Highborn, Lowborn, peasant child, anyone who practiced any magic told me it was a warming, comfortable sensation. Mine, mine was chilling and frightening. And when I began to overwhelm me like it was doing now…  
“Keltoi!” Tayler lashed out and grabbed my wrist again, and slapped my face to break my concentration. My eyes, which had been so forcefully held shut, sprung open, and light seared my eyes. How though, I thought, it was the middle of the night… As the patchy light began to fade from my vision, my hands seemed to materialise through it. The void between my hands was still empty, nothing but air occupying the space.

“It’s no use, Tay,” I said, defeated. I slumped into a sitting position, my legs crossed. “I’m not like you, or our parents, or any other damn Blood Elf. I’m a dead end.”  
Silence fell on us for a very long time, only the sound of the slight wind in the trees behind the run down shack we used as a landmark. Tayler broke the seemingly endless silence some time later.

“I’m not giving up on you. You’ll get there. I’m not going to watch my big brother be reduced to nothing because of a bunch of rules, because of what you can and can’t do. I will never give up on helping you.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed and nothing changed. Every time Tayler tried to instruct me through the motions and help coax my traditional Blood Elven magic out from its hiding place, all I got was the sheer coldness and the blinding light. At first I thought it could be some twisted form of magic, that I was indeed to opposite of every value we held, but the more I pondered it, the more I convinced myself it was just the peak of my fear for the future. For my future, and Tayler’s. And as I stood next to Tayler, wearing our ceremonious, royal family robes, the feeling was pretty much the same.

Our Casting was upon us.

The Casting was a ceremony that all Highblood heirs would endure when they come of age, and are ready to be inducted into their respective family’s position of power. In the Great Chamber of the city’s Central Hall, in front of the other noble and royal houses, and a sweeping crowd of the common Blood Elf population, one would stand on a lowered platform, around which the crowd would stand. In the centre of the platform sat a small column, on which sat the crown or brooch or symbol of that particular person, made especially for them as their own rune or symbol to adopt, a visual representation of who they are. Beside this, on the outer edged of the rounded, lowered area, were two more columns, but these were adorned with crystals, ones which would act as a conduit for magic. An inductee then had to pull the magic from the crystals, while manipulating the pure energy into their own magic, and imbue the centrepiece with it. It acted as a symbol and a pledge of power and allegiance to their people, and was a highly difficult feat. Failing was seen as the highest of insults, and had been rumoured to be linked with treason.

“Bullshit,” I had said when they told us during a lesson in the Academy. But I had been silenced with stern looks and disapproving grunts.

Tayler and I stood side by side in our matching royal blue, gold and crimson robes, looking down the stairs that would lead us to the place where we would publically display our magic and pledge our loyalty and willingness to protect the people of our lands. Tayler was buzzing with excitement, her grin getting wider and wider as more people filled the galleries above us, and the floor beneath us. We stood on a raised podium of sorts, used for delivering sermons and speeches and was generally used by the more powerful in meetings of councils. In the middle of this section sat two throne-like chairs. In one, my father sat. And the other, my mother took her place. We stood to the side of them, slightly in front, so as to not block any kind of view of them or the people. Behind the thrones was the wall, but a magnificent jewelled mosaic mural adorned it. The light that shone through the large glass window on the roof made the mural sparkle with life, and when it did, you couldn’t see the light stone behind it. Bannisters and railings edged the area, so as to stop people falling off and/or climbing up, potential safety hazards of course.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, trying to distract myself from the eyes of the crowd and the very real possibility of being led out of the building in chains. Or in pieces. I glanced over at Tayler to find her staring at me, a sympathetic, almost sad expression on her face. She reached out her hand and took mine in an effort to soothe us both. Silence fell across the large room as our father strode forward.

He was a tall, thin man, with long black hair like ours, and his beard was plaited tightly, the ends bouncing against his bellybutton. He held himself high, pushing his shoulders back and arching his chin upwards, making himself look taller. He demanded attention and respect with only the way he walked, and if that wasn’t enough, his piercing eyes that glowed with his furious magic would draw it from those his demeanour had no effect on. He was a very intimidating man, our father, no doubt. He held up has hand, as if asking for even more silence, before beginning.

“My friends, esteemed members of the noble houses, those of the general public, I welcome you here today to this prestigious Hall as we witness the induction of my two children into their respective positions within our House. After today, not only will they be true members of the nobility of the Blood Elves, but they will also be sworn protectors of our way of life, and shall uphold the values and laws of our people.” He paused, surveying the crowd. People nodded and smiled and couldn’t decide whether to look at him, or ogle us as we stood to his side.

“The Casting is an important ceremony within our culture, as I’m sure you know. It solidifies and inductee’s place as a Blood Elf, as a Blood Elf of royal and Highblood. There is no greater way to show devotion and dedication to us as a people and our way of life. Once complete, my children here today will truly be a part of our history, and who we are and who we will continue to be into the future.” The crowds nodded and murmured in agreement, and a light applause made its way around the room. He pivoted on his heel, and turned to walk towards us. His eyes flickered over the two of his children standing before him in the robes of our House. He glanced at Tayler, and pride, happiness and confidence filled his face, before he turned to me. His eyes went cold, dull. Some form of resignation registered on his face and was that… concern? It was gone before I could think about it. “Make me proud,” he whispered, his eyes now back on Tayler. He moved back to his seat before announcing, “We will start with my daughter, Tayler.”

I squeezed Tayler’s hand in encouragement she probably didn’t need as she began her way down the stairs. Excited whispers rose from the crowd, amplified by the echo the room allowed. On the middle column sat an amulet, in the shape of a roaring dragon head, a symbol of power, ferocity, purity and beauty. She stared at it for a moment before smiling at it. The columns next to her began to glow with the pure magical energy, and she raised her hands, palms facing outward toward the two crystals.

I could feel the magic crackle in the air as she fought with it, trying to draw it from the cages it was placed it, from the conduits that so strongly hold onto any kind of magic. Her body was tense and rigid as she fought this way and that. The white glow in the crystals flickered and moved with her, and over tie she began to gain control over it. Her actions became more relaxed and fluid, like she was waving her limbs through water, and the pure energy followed suit.

Gasps came from the crowds soon after, before cheers. A bright orange had begun to form within the white as Tayler used her own magic, her own mastery of fire to convert it into her own. Once the conversion had started it didn’t take long for the white to be eradicated and large, vibrant orange flames came shotting out of the crystal, converging overhead in a tightly compacted ball of heat. Pride swelled in my chest for my sister as she brought the purest form of her fire magic down and forced it into the amulet.  
But the joy was short lived for me. As Tayler joined us again on the platform, the fear settled over me once again. My own turn grew near.

“I would like to congratulate my daughter,” my father spoke again as Tayler took her spot next to me again, “on her success in showing her strength, determination and loyalty to our way of life. I am confident that she will prove a valuable asset to the Blood Elves in the development of our future.” Another round of applause. He held his hand up again for silence, before continuing on. “Now, it is my firstborns’ turn. Keltoi, please proceed.” I couldn’t help but notice the reluctance and restriction in his voice, not nearly as cheerful as when he sent Tayler down there. Not that I could blame him. After all, I was the one without magic, I was the wrong one here.

The walk down to the columns was one of the longest I’d taken in memory. Every muscle in my body and every instinct I had told me, screamed at me, to run and take my chances, because if I stayed here and showed my talentless self in this prestigious ceremony, I would have zero chance of anything ever happening again. The fear began to lock my legs in place but I had to keep going. My breath came short and I was suddenly hyper aware of every pair of eyes staring directly at me, expecting the same greatness my younger sister had shown.

I don’t remember making it all the way to the column, but one moment I was halfway down the stairs and the next I was holding a pair of beautiful leather gauntlets. They were laced with a white gold pattern, and their craftsmanship was amazing. I had only read about such works of armour, and now this was my symbol, my identifier to others. A pair of gauntlets, a piece of armour that protects the hands and wrists, the most vital part needed to fight back. To protect.

I looked back over my shoulder, my eyes meeting with my father’s. He stared back at me, and even from this distance I could see how his face dropped, how tired his eyes were and how resigned he looked. I knew he knew I had no chance, he had made it clear throughout my training, or rather lack of training, of how disappointed he was in me, how much of a failure I would be seen as if I couldn’t fit in. At first he had tried hiding it, denying it at all, that I was indeed just a late bloomer and I would eventually develop the talents I inherited from him and his blood, that I would be just as powerful and influential as he, but it wore on him, and eventually he stopped playing the naïve role and I knew, I just knew that he would follow the values and laws of the Blood Elven culture when I fucked up today.

Yet he still had enough of a shred of hope for me that he still saw me in a position to protect and support the people.

Turning back around, I placed the gauntlets back on the column where I had taken them from. My breath still came short and my heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I felt like it was rocking my entire body back and forth. As I subconsciously slipped into a comfortable standing position – legs about shoulder width apart, slightly bent, shoulders down – a numbness spread across my body, wiping away the fear and anxiety, masking it completely. I outstretched my arms, one towards each crystal. My fingers tingled as the raw energy brushed against my skin. I could feel the potential power in it, the power that could be mine.

The familiar cold, emptiness opened up in my gut once again as I attempted to ‘reach’ for my magic, as every tutor, including my sister, had put it. I shut my eyes against the glaring of the crowds’ eyes and the strain of trying to grasp something impossible. I visualised the white energy leaving the crystals and morphing into something else. I tried every visualisation scenario I thought could be possible, while pouring my concentration and energy into trying to control this wild, pure force and manipulate it to my will. I could feel beads of sweat begin to form at the base of my black hair, along my forehead.

The longer I stayed there, the deeper the feeling of nothingness and cold ran. The longer I stood between the two crystals, the more murmurs and whispers rose of the crowd. The longer I stood there in that position with nothing happening, the more the urge to run and disappear grew inside. I itched to get away from the humiliation and I nearly broke my concentration entertaining the idea of a life free from the rules of this society. But no, I’d either surprise everyone and win this internal struggle, or I’d fail, like everyone expected, and by tomorrow I’d be dead. I didn’t give up though, harbouring the childish thought that if enough effort was made, an exception to the unspoken laws would be granted and everything would be fine.

Guilt suddenly clouded every thought I had. If I hadn’t spent so much time obsessing over the arts of thievery and deception, maybe then I would have developed. My interests did this to me, subconsciously blocked out my magic and now I was to pay for deviating from the social norm. I had done this to myself and no one else was to blame.  
“Enough.” My father’s voice rang out clear and shattered the haze of concentration and thoughts that hung over my head. The whispers and murmurs had grown far louder now, and there was a mix of reactions to my obvious failure. Many people looked on sympathetically, knowing the coming consequences for my inability. Others scowled at me, as if I had personally offended them by not being able to perform what everyone else seemed to be able to do. But it wasn’t that that drove ice into my heart, it was the tone of my father’s voice. Anger, sadness, horror. The thing I’d feared most was coming fast, and I had no way out.

“You’ve failed.” The sentence rang out as the crowd hushed again. “You’ve failed to perform your Casting, failed to show any potential that you can offer. “ My father stared down at me, his gaze locking onto mine, freezing me in place. “You have shown no talent in magic and little interest in our culture your entire life. You are nothing but a placeholder, Keltoi, a major disappointment and a blemish on our family.” His voice slowly rose as his anger and mortification did, and his words became venomous and hurtful. “You have given proof that you cannot offer anything to our cause, and that you will never be acceptable in any aspect of Blood Elven life.” His lips curled into a snarl. “You’ve desecrated the name of my house, and poisoned the blood that runs through our veins.”

He waved his long, thin hands and the energy in the crystals ignited, leaping from their cages at me, the untamed energy burning as it made contact. I cried out in surprise and horror, the white light filling my vision as the pain seared. The robes I wore burned easily, the energy disintegrating them.

“You do not deserve to wear my colours!” my father roared. I saw Tayler through the blinding light of the raw magic, clinging to his side and batting at him, screeching for him to stop.

“Father, stop it! Stop this instant you’re hurting him!” She glared at the man, and realising he wasn’t going to listen to her, waved her own hands and extinguished the flames, the white magic dissolving into nothingness. I crumpled to the ground, the remaining threads of the robes draping off of me, clinging to the leather clothes I wore underneath. Clouds of ash and smoke fell around me and collected on the ground in a grey blanket. Miraculously, as I looked over myself, the only injuries I sustained were on my hands, the skin badly burned where I’d tried to bat out the flames, but nothing a healing salve could fix. While thrashing about I must have knocked the gauntlets off the column, because they sat on the ground, like they’d be tossed at me, next to my feet. Painfully, I pulled them on. Might as well make some use of them while I still could.

“How can you even do this to him? How can you think this is right, father?” Tayler was still arguing, distracting him from doing anything else to me. I loved her for protecting me, but this was an inevitability. Even she must know that. A Blood Elf that fails the fundamental basis of our species has no right to live on and make a name in society.

“He failed, proved himself useless.”

“But he’s not! He can do other things.”

“Tayler, this is not up for discussion, you know the laws.”

“You can’t do this I won’t let you!” Her voiced cracked.

“He’s nothing.”

“He’s your son.” I pulled myself to my feet as he turned to me.

“He is not my son.”

Finally, there it was. The words that I knew would seal my fate. The emptiness and cold returned to my chest and anger joined them this time, constricting my lungs and clouding my vision. My dagger, which was always strapped to my thigh, became a sudden dead weight on my leg, and it itched. I knew I shouldn’t, but what was the point in holding back now, when I was going to end up in the same place anyway?

“Guards, take him to a holding cell and prepare him for his execution tomorrow. There is no place here for people like you, Keltoi.”

“Why not just fucking kill me now, father,” I jeered.

“Keltoi, shut the fuck up you moron,” Tayler protested, an exasperated look on her face.

“How about I give you reason to, huh?” In the blink of an eye, I tore the dagger from its makeshift sheathe and threw it. The blade soared through the air and dug itself deep into the railing next to my father. Cries and shouts erupted from the crowd as they processed my failed attack on my father. I didn’t care. Years and years of disapproval and disgust and being beat down by him and everyone else left me numb to their objections and fear. “Kill me already, I know you want to, you royal fuck.”

Guards had already appeared around the room, their stances ready to fight, already casting the beginnings of powerful fireballs. Tayler continued to protest, but her cries fell on deaf ears.

“Guards,” my father said for the second time, “Kill the deviant.”

Everything seemed to slow then. The mage guards released their spells, the balls of certain death shooting towards me, but my reflexes were faster. I dodged around, skipped over and dived under the oncoming slew of magic, each fireball hitting the ground next to me, or where I was moments before. I weaved in and out of the guards, making my way up the stairs towards Tayler and my family. But I wasn’t there for them.

Despite the onslaught of fire around me, the cold hollowness inside was all I could feel, numbing me to anything surrounding me, sharpening my focus on my goal. The crowd screamed and fled, a slow trickle out the main doors. Those further in took cover and cowered, hoping that a stray spell wouldn’t hit and kill them. I danced over the bannister and leapt towards my buried blade, yanking it from deep within, the wood splintering as I freed it. I balanced on the balls of my feet on the thin barrier, locking eyes with my father. His rage, humiliation and utter hatred was evident now, everything he had ever felt against me my entire life now showed on his face, and it contorted his usual regal expression into something sinister and terrifying. I then looked to Tayler.

Her face was pale, the angst and terror on her face quite apparent. Tears streaked down her face and her hands wobbled. She drew a shuddering breath as we made eye contact. She shook her head lightly, a pleading look in her eyes. But it was gone in a flash and replaced with fear. She opened her mouth to say something but was too late.

The fireball slammed into my back, throwing me off the perch I had made. I slammed into one of the intricate thrones and flipped over it, colliding with the wall and sliding under the rail, plummeting to the ground. The numerous impacts took the breath from my lungs, but there was little pain, just an empty void, and slight heat on my back. I quickly tried to get to my feet and make a break for the door, but the crowd, while significantly thinned out, was still blocking my way, so I only made it so far before another spell exploded on my side, throwing me into a thick column.

This time, I felt everything. My body shook from the impact and my bones ached. I was sure at least one rib was broken, but I couldn’t be sure. I guards running towards me and I could feel the heat of their fires from across the room. This was it. I closed my eyes and waited for it to all be over…

“Stop! No!”

The familiar whoosh of flowing robes reached my ears and a slight wave of air rolled over me. I cracked open one of my eyes to see Tayler standing over me, with her arms out protectively, facing the numerous guards that had been ordered to kill.

“Lady Tayler, we need you to step aside so we can deal with this. We’re on your father’s orders.” One of the guards spoke for them all, and they never broke their concentration, like good little students.

“No,” Tayler said, “What you need to do is to listen to me. To get to my brother, you’ll have to go through me. And as of now, I am in a much higher standing than ‘Lady’, and far more powerful than the likes of you peasant scum. So you need to back the fuck off, and step back, before you piss me off anymore.”

“Father’s going to hate you for doing this,” I grunted.

“He can hate me all he wants, but he needs me. He knows it.” She turned her head to the side so she could look at me. “You need to leave, Keltoi. You know I’ve never approved of your ghost-y antics and parlour tricks but you need to leave and that’s the only way you can with your life.”

“What ghost-y antics? What are you talking about?” I was genuinely confused.

“I’ll explain in detail later but your magic is different, that much is obvious. Instead of an outward projection it’s a personal internal magic. You need to let it out, and stop fighting it.”

“I need to disappear, that’s what I need to do, Tay, and that’s impossible.”

“Not for you, Kel. Disappear, I know you can.”

The cold emptiness had been building for some time now, almost crushing me from this inside, and it was beginning to become uncomfortable. I needed to disappear, but how? I couldn’t just click my fingers and, poof, I’m gone. So I made a hazardous and last ditch effort to save myself. I took a deep breath, dug deep into the cold void and willed myself gone.

The cold exploded through my body and a bright white light blinded me.

There were screams. There were cries. There were looks of utter confusion. The guards extinguished their fires, looking left and right, high and low. A few people scratched their head.

“Where… where’d he go?”

Tayler smiled and lowered her arms, her defensive stance disappearing. She shrugged.

“He’s different, powerful. Just not as you think.” I looked down at myself, and could only vaguely make out my hands. They were see through, completely translucent and damn near …

Invisible.

No one could see me, I’d finally found a way to disappear for good. I couldn’t help myself.

I laughed. I laughed and laughed loudly.

“He’s still here!” The guards went back to the offensive, and continued searching, even though I hadn’t moved.

“I want him killed,” my father growled.

“Kel, you need to go, now. Just fucking run okay, don’t look back and don’t worry about me just fucking go!” Tayler gestured towards the door violently. I nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see me, before standing and leaning close.

“I’ll meet you at the shack,” I whispered, and wiped away the tear that fell from her eye. She nodded weakly, knowing that that was the only place we could meet again, the only place only we knew about.

“If you’re still here, you good for nothing traitor,” our father called out, “know this: You are hereby BANISHED from this land and those under my rule. If you ever, EVER step foot in in these lands again, you will be killed on sight, you hear me? Never, EVER, come back!”

I didn’t answer as I made my way swiftly to the door. I didn’t care. Because I’d already made a promise to myself.

The only reason I would ever return into the hell that I was now escaping was to put a dagger through his heart.


	2. The Casting - Tayler + Marcusne

TAYLER

 

“…and the beauty of the fire you conjured during the Casting my lord, I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing! You have such a natural and, I don’t know, fluid way of contorting the arcane I wish I-”

I scoffed and rubbed my temples to calm myself. 

“La’Shak, please, you’re a fantastic maid, but can you please just shut the fuck up.”

Her rounded green features recoiled for a second in fear that I may strike her as mother did. I could see the moment she felt she was safe, and she resumed folding my linen sheets. 

“Of course my lady, sorry, my lord.” 

I continued to brush my hair; it would tangle so easily and fighting off about ten of father’s men had not helped my situation. I knew I would pay the price for my actions. Of course, my Casting had already happened and I was in a much higher position than I was before, but, somewhat unfortunately, my parents were still alive. They still had to pick a noble house for me to marry into, they needed to appoint me a place of honour in the Magicians’ Academy, and I looked to La’Shak in sympathy as I would also require a much more qualified handmaiden. 

“Where were you born?” I asked her with force, hoping that learning more about Orcish lands would silence the thumping dread in my heart. 

She stammered growled nonsense for a good two minutes. “Oh, lady, lord, lady, lord, I mean, I can’t particularly, well, of course I can but I, well you see, lady, my lord, oh I am sorry”

“La’Shak, please. Composure or erasure.” I turned my gaze away, back to my mirror in hopes it would calm her. 

“Orgrimmar, my lord.” 

I saw my own glowing green eyes widen in my reflection. The brush dropped from my hands and I couldn’t help but turn back around to her. 

“Orgrimmar?” I scoffed with less tact than I was capable of “How did you survive in such a place? It’s such a hole from what I’ve heard of it!” 

She looked vaguely offended, but I didn’t care much for her feelings, I was now genuinely concerned about such a huge kingdom, full of Orcs. Well, it wasn’t exactly surprising that she hailed from there, most Orcish orphans are shipped off to human, gnomish and blood elven kingdoms around Azeroth - or they are sold by desperate parents on the black market, but I had always thought my lands had a higher quality of servant than those. 

“Mother once ordered a thousand plainstrider fillets from their butchers district and they tasted so vile that we refused to even feed the slaves with them! And the fashion! Fucking lords, it’s horrendous, it almost makes me as sick as that meat did!”

“It was my parents, my lady.” 

I recoiled in stunned silence. My handmaiden had just interrupted me. Her face was to the floor, but soon raised up in apparent terror. 

“My lord!” she quickly corrected “I must apologise, oh please, I was deep in my own mind, it’s not place to interrupt a lad- lord. OH please forgive m-”

I shushed her. 

“It’s okay, what did you have to say, about your parents?” 

Despite what would’ve been her best efforts, the internal battle she was having with herself was plastered all over her face. I gave her as long as she needed before she found it within herself to speak. 

“My father was killed at the front line, by a raid of humans at the front of the city.” 

I found myself shocked once again. 

“Your father was an Orgrimmar guard? How in the twelve fires of hell did you end up here?” 

Her face dropped further, and it was hard to tell because of her rough Orcish accent, but it sounded like her voice was beginning to crack. 

“Strength and honour are the two most important things to my people. My father was killed with a single swipe of a blade, he was the first to fall. My entire family was boycotted; we received no compensation, no help. My mother lost our bar, and had to marry again. Orcs are not friendly towards children that are not their own, and so to protect me, as things don’t normally end well for adolescent female orcs in those situations, she sold me.”

My own face began to feel heavier, and my breath ran cold as opposed to its usual warm. I thought my house had more honour, more tact, than to buy servants from underground slave dens. When I realised who hired La’Shak in the first place, my limbs went weak. 

As if summoned by his own betrayal, the locked doors of my chambers swung open. 

“You are all this kingdom has, how could you shame me further than your brother already had!” 

La’Shak squealed in terror and dropped my sheets to the floor. 

I turned around defiantly to the towering structure standing in my doorway. 

“You expect me to sit by and watch as you murder my twin brother? Father, have you lost your fucking tiara and feel a bit more power hungry than usua-”  
My words were drowned out by a sudden firm grip on both of my arms, squeezing the tighter and tighter as my father became more enraged. His face was inches away from mine as he pinned me helpless, to my chair. 

“We raised you to know better than this you stupid, you fucking stupid ignorant little wench!” 

I tried my best to snap back at him as I normally do, but he had never been that angry before. Not that I had seen. I opened my mouth, pleading for witty words to come out, but it was instead my eyes that opened, with tears flowing out of them. All that left my mouth were muted sobs as images of a blade slicing through Keltoi’s neck flooded my father’s eyes. 

“Enough! Your days of crying are over Tayler. You are the leader of our people now, you will show strength, you will show discipline and by lords you will exert every inch of our power while you do it! We are the most noble of houses in this land you WILL uphold that princip-”

“If we are such a noble house father, then please, please tell me why we have illegal slaves working in our own living space!” 

His grip got lighter and his eyes honed in on La’Shak, standing against the wall, clinging to my sheets to provide her any comfort she could. My father let me go completely and stalked his way over to her. She clenched her eyes shut as his steps got closer. My fathers’ face had gone slowly from enraged to what seemed like utter confusion. 

“You care for the rights of creatures such as these?” He pointed to her, “Orcs? You care for her?” 

I said nothing, my arms free now, but still as stuck to the chair as I was when he towered over me. 

He nodded as he took my silence as confirmation. He paced a bit, murmuring to himself. 

“Right, okay then.” He stopped and looked up at me, “You may have proven yourself to the people in your tests today, but regardless of what you think you are yet to prove yourself to me. Kill her.”

It felt as if his stone set glare was a knife right through my chest. I sprung up from my chair and shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks as the realisation slowly set in. 

“No, no-”

“Don’t you dare to disappoint me further Tayler, KILL HER!” 

“NO FATHER YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!” 

He stalked towards me and gripped one of my arms so tightly I felt as if it may break. 

“Stop! Father please!”

He yanked my body up as my grief made me fall. His hand whacked the back of my head. 

“What have I told you about crying? KILL THE SLAVE!” 

I could hear La’Shak beginning to cry, pleading for her life, but the sheer intimidation of my father was much louder. 

“TAYLER! KILL THE FUCKING SLAVE OR JOIN YOUR BROTHER IN EXILE!”   
With the most powerful force I had ever felt in my life he pushed me forwards. My legs gave way and I struck the golden marble ground. 

“GET UP!” he demanded 

I found my footing, yet my tears kept falling. I daren’t face my father again, and so, with chest hammering away, I faced the orc. Her brown eyes were swimming with as many tears as my own. She began mouthing words, begging me to not do what we both knew I was going to. 

And as much as I willed them not to, my hands began to burn hot as I raised them into the air. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

MARCUSNE

 

I sighed out loud as my waterlogged boots scared away the fifth pigeon in half an hour, through the towering yellow and crimson leaves, sheltering the entire floor from the outside world. How did I manage to overlook it though? ‘Just troop on through the mossy riverbed, you’ll be fine it’s just a bit of water, no harm can come of it, right?’

What was I? An apprentice camper? How could I ever have thought that would make logical sense? So, once again, I had found nothing for mother or father to eat tonight. I pressed my bow tighter to my chest at the thought. Food hadn’t been on the table for two nights now, and mother had to call in the house chefs again, eyeing me up and down disapprovingly as they served up steamed trout all the way from Stranglethorn. That won’t be the way tonight! My optimism pushed me further into the woods, where I was certain I’d find another bird, preferably deaf to wet boots.

Irritation, likely fuelled by hunger and fatigue, swelled in my gut. If they could ignore the persistent croaks of toads and the trilling of the insects, why were my steps any different? Only that morning had I overheard the employees at the leatherworks in Silvermoon speak of two female Draenei hunters. One, who could snag any beast with a single shot from her crossbow and the other who was rumoured to have such a strong connection to her own home forest on Azuremyst that the animals and trees ‘spoke’ to her. Zanithae, one of the most respected and exalted Alliance hunters of a decade ago was undoubtedly who they spoke of first. She provided armies with the morale they needed and led her people to many a victory. The Blood Elves, my people, loathe her. Of course, our kingdoms swear death on anyone who dares to even sport gold and navy in their casual attire. Zanithae was different. She led an army against a Blood Elven base camp set up in Ashenvale, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of our people. That week the news circuits through the entire Blood Elven population were rife with calls for Zanithae’s live capture, so she could be executed publicly in Silvermoon. She has never been seen since, but talk of this ‘new’ female Draenei forest mistress has raised questions. Could it be Zanithae?

I hoped not. She was one of my idols from my early days, although of course I never dared speak it to anyone, especially with the royal blood that ran through my veins. It would be high treason, speaking anything other than utter hatred for anyone associated with the Alliance. I spat to my side in disgust, in myself, and in ‘my’ people. Why couldn’t I have the talents the Draenei had? Of course, it was our addiction to the Arcane, to magic and all that was involved with it. Nature was merely something that we needed to survive, something we take from and never nurture or protect. If it were to disappear, we would just turn back to magic to provide us with the sustenance we require to live. We’d probably let the Humans and Night Elves die off before we started charging the Dwarves, Gnomes and Draenei obscene amounts for it until they slowly all died out too.

I felt a small nudge at my elbow, and a smooth, yet somehow rough beak brush across my cheek. I chuckled lightly and slid my hand onto the back of my Dragonhawk’s neck. She trilled as quietly as she could, and pointed her luminous blue eyes to a stump a few yards in the distance. Atop the mossy remnants, sat a nest with three large eggs very obviously pointing from the top of the twigs. 

“Good work La’rai!” I petted her on the head. 

She smiled at me, a smile that only my bond with my pet could see. I aimed my arrow as I took the most silently squelched steps that I could. The numerous amount of deadly beasts that would fiercely protect their young flicked their way through my head. Then I had to raise the question of if my catch would even be edible, and worth all the effort of the potential fight I was about to endure. I shook the thoughts away, it would be much more worth it to avoid the judgemental eyes and the threat of my bow being taken away again. There is no way in the whole of Azeroth and Outlands that I could survive without her again. I clutched my bow even closer to my chest at the mere thought of that threat. My steps found their place as best they could, away from crunching leaves and stray branches as I slowly but surely got closer to the nest. Uncertainty began to descend upon me as I got a few inches away, and nothing had come to protect them. I leaned closer, ears scanning the area, turning in every direction they could. Yet, even with Blood Elf hearing, I heard no disturbance other than La’rai’s constantly flapping wings. I gave myself a few more moments just to be sure and proceeded to reach for the first egg. 

“Marcusne!” 

La’rai let out an earsplitting Dragonhawk cry that sent scratches down the length of my spine. I jerked my head around to her and frowned. She lowered her head in shame and flew towards my uncle, robed and disgusted by the dirt he’d worked into the bottom of them in his effort to get to me. 

“Uncle!” I called, as casually as I could “What brings you to my neck of the woods then?”

His impatient expression framed by his waist long blonde hair told me that he was not amused, and my chuckles faded away. 

“By the mud caked in your vest I must assume that you have forgotten.” He sighed, brushing a tiny spider from his shoulders in horror. 

My face went as empty as my mind because I had no clue what the fuck my uncle was talking about. Forgotten? What had I forgotten? Another robe fitting? The arrival of the Sunstrider’s again?

“What have I forgotten uncle?” I resigned myself to asking when I couldn’t think of a single thing. 

“The Casting!” he shouted in resignation “You are late for us to set out on our way to the house of Quel’Mara for the casting of the two black haired freaks! You parents are far from impressed that you’re not present!”

I groaned and couldn’t stop it. More magic interrupting my time in the woods. I didn’t hate the magic, I wasn’t particularly bad at it either and when the time came for me to take over in my place as leader of my house I would take up the role. As long as I can spend time in the woods with La’rai, I could be sane enough to do anything, even run a kingdom.   
Uncle scoffed pompously at La’rai who was hovering next to him, a dumb and happy look on her face. She was only a Dragonhawk, but I knew that she loved visiting neighbouring kingdoms and having the servants feed her exotic fruits from all corners of Azeroth. Blood Elves spared no expense for their high status visitors, not even in the rare case that they have pets. Dragonhawks and the occasional housecats are all that Blood Elves will allow to frequent their kingdoms and provide for them. Cats purely as vermin control. In fact, before other houses are scheduled for a visit, every cat in the kingdom is let loose to seek and destroy any creature unlucky enough to have set up shop in the land. Dragonhawks, however, are a huge symbol of honor and nobility in our culture. There was a kingdom not too far from mine with huge murals and statues honouring the Dragonhawk and all that it symbolises for us. Grace, discipline and, of course, a very strong tie to the arcane. This is why, as a child, I was permitted to keep a dragonhawk egg until it hatched on the eve of my sixteenth birthday. La’rai was a gift from a noble in Silvermoon, in thanks for my father’s command in a battle against the humans long ago. Dragonhawks may mean a lot to us, but they are rare and can often only be obtained through eggs, which are only affordable to the rich or famous. Before the Scourge attacked   
years ago, Dragonhawks were just as prevalent as our people. 

I watched my own Dragonhawk fly off with my uncle, beckoning me to follow. I reached behind me quickly and shoved all three eggs into my rucksack and headed off.


	3. Aftermath - Keltoi

KELTOI

 

I didn’t immediately leave, as per what my father thought. I made a couple of quick stops first, gathering supplies. I ran first up to my chambers in our large keep, taking the steps three at a time and nimbly weaving through the bustling servants. Dropping onto all fours at the side of my bed, I reached under the unnecessarily large piece of furniture and grasped my bow. It wasn’t the nicest bow you could think of, but it did its job, even if I wasn’t the best archer around. I put it over my head and one arm through the drawstring, so it hung diagonal over my chest and was out of the way. I picked up my tiny quiver, and all three arrows I had managed to keep, and secured it to the bow with string. I strapped up my jagged dagger to my thigh once again and left.

My next stop on my hurried, invisible escape was a baker’s and butcher’s out on the street. As much as it pained me to have to steal, I took enough bread and meat, both cooked and raw, to spread over the next day or two before I’d have to hunt myself. I stuffed it anywhere I could, not needing to worry about being seen because I figured out pretty fast that anything that was attached to me was under the mysterious magic.

My final stop before fleeing for good was the armourer near the gates of the walled city. His furnace was glowing red hot with its fire, which did nothing to stave off the freezing veil which I assumed was the magic at work, blades and armour sitting in heaps in various states of completion. I spied a small, freshly sharpened dagger hanging on the wall rack with other nice looking weapons,, and proceeded to strap the new sheathed weapon to my left side.

Now fully stocked and in with a fighting chance of actually surviving exile, I exited through the main gate, not looking back. As soon as I was clear of the city, I left the road, running as fast as I could across the green plains. The shack I was headed to was only just outside the reaches of my father’s influence, the Blood Elven kingdoms coming to an end. I’d never made the trip on foot before, Tayler and I had always coveted two Hawkstriders from the stables and rode there and back. We visited it frequently, obviously, so the trip had become ridiculously fast, the Hawkstriders knowing each and every turn and drop through the forest. It certainly was different on foot; I missed the wind through my hair and on my face. It took a hell of a lot longer to get to the shack by foot. Ny the time I got there, my feet were aching and I was beginning to tire, and I still needed to figure out how to turn off the ghost-y thing.

The shack and surrounding forest looked quite different in the mid afternoon sunlight, it was almost foreign. Of course, we had only seen it during the midnight hours, so the dark blues and silvers and shadowy blacks that I had become accustomed to were not present, but were replaced with lush greens of the grass and beautiful golds of the leaves above and the brilliant glowing light that filtered through them. It was a breathtaking sight to behold, and I was sure that Tayler would mock me for gasping out loud, while being just as awestruck as I was.

However the daylight also brought the state of the shack into focus as well. It fit in so nicely in the dark hours of the night, but now it was painfully obvious it was run down and very, very abandoned. The wood had begun to warp and splinter, rusty nails poking out everywhere, window shutters barely hanging onto their hinges. Inside was just as bad. The floor was rotten and splintering as well, cobwebs filled nearly every corner, hung off every old piece of furniture. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and clouded the air with every movement I made that disturbed it.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” I coughed as I dumped my bow, quiver and collection of foods onto a worn out couch, waving away the dust. My own hand startled me, not noticing the dreadful cold feeling had worn off, returning me to the regular opacity of normal people. I would have to try and work on controlling whatever that was, whether it be magic or some other thing that was wrong with me.

“The food will only last a few days, at best,” I muttered to myself as I started gather pieces of wood. “I’ll have to make a fire, cook the raw meat. Don’t want to get sick, oh how father would enjoy that.” I could imagine my body being found, the cause of death food poisoning due to carelessness, and the grin of absolute glee on the gaunt man’s long face.  
“Stupid boy,” I could hear, “Couldn’t even cook his own food right. Good thing he’s gone for good.” Tayler would probably scoff, and shake her head sadly. I shook the thoughts from my head. No, I would spite the angry, power-hungry, maniacal old man by surviving, then returning to watch him bleed.

I returned my thoughts to my source of food. Of course, I could hunt it, what with my new ghost-y invisibility business, but I had yet to learn to properly control it, at all. I had a limited – very limited – amount of arrows I could use, and even then, I wasn’t a very good shot. However, there was a small town no too far from the shack, populated by many different races. It was like a slum, living just off the edge of the Dead Scar, trying its best to keep afloat, doing trade with other local villages and providing some offerings to my father and the other royal Houses, in return for supplies or gold. Tayler and I had been through there a few times on our little midnight lessons, looking for material to focus on destroying or manipulating with magic. They had some nice leather tanning outside an Inn, I’d noticed more than once, as well as stalls and stables and houses, surely there’d be   
a baker at the very least, if not a small market district.

“Market district,” I scoffed at myself, “It’s a fucking tiny village, not home!” I shook my head. I was never good with complete silence; I had to keep talking to myself to feel comfortable. Though I was sure in the coming… rest of my life of exile I would become comfortable with the blanket of quiet. At least I would have some sort of interaction when Tayler visited.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tayler didn’t visit the first night, nor the third. I stayed up well past midnight each night hoping she’d turn up, and with every night she didn’t the silence grew stronger, and I felt more and more isolated from everything, more and more alone. It was getting close to a week into my exile when I thought I heard her Hawkstrider come bounding across the forest floor for the first time. I burst out through the rickety door, hope and happiness swelling my chest.

But it wasn’t Tayler. It was a very large Springpaw, a yellow and red feline denizen of the lands of the Blood Elves and those that surround it. It was swatting violently at the ground, bounding after whatever it was it was hitting, its mouth open slightly, rivers of saliva pouring from the maw of the beast. It was toying with its food, and if it saw me, I might be next. I was about to silently slink back into the shack when it batted its prey over the ridge and I saw what it was playing with.

A rabbit.

My heart froze and my stomach sank.

“Fuck,” I breathed. I had an intense love for rabbits of all kinds. They were peaceful critters, just bouncing around, eating greens and vegetables, helping keep the gardens clean of weeds and harmful vermin. I had a stuffed one my mother made for me when I was younger that I slept with every night. It brought me comfort. I was always heartbroken to see them eradicated and chased from the city every time a supposedly important visitor arrived, or harvest season was upon us. I had a bond with the silent, peace loving creatures, and I couldn’t let one die in front of me without doing anything.

I steeled myself and I drew my two daggers, an almost inaudible snick letting me know they were free of their sheathes. I kept my eyes on the large beast. It was larger than me, by about two times, and its jaw would have no trouble crushing one of my bones. They weren’t usually hostile towards Blood Elves or anyone else besides their prey really, unless you provoked them or prevented them from getting what they wanted.

Both of which I was about to do. The Springpaw brought back its paw and slapped the rabbit once more, sending it sprawling to my side. It squealed as it rolled, and my gut clenched. I leapt in between the defenceless creature and its attacker, waving my arms and daggers around in what I hoped was an intimidating way. I’d never had any experience with hunting, I was ‘too sophisticated and respectable for that Lowblood filth’, so this encounter was petrifying, even more so when I realised I’d have to kill it, or it would kill me now that I’d gotten its attention.

A low growl escaped its gaping jaws before it leapt towards me. I had about three seconds to process its charge, and move to the side quickly to avoid being pinned and having my throat ripped out. As it passed me, unable to stop, I unconsciously stuck out one of my arms, the tip of the dagger slicing into the meat on its side with ease, deep crimson staining the golden yellow fur, and darkening the red. It howled in surprise and anger before turning on me again, too fast for me to react. One moment I was staring at the wound I’d given, the next I was howling with my own pain as its claws raked down my chest and its jaw found my arm. Its claws shredded the leather gear I was wearing, and it’s rather large teeth pierced the bracers from the Casting and stabbed my wrist. I reacted instantly, and instinctually, dropping the dagger in my right hand and bringing my left hand in to strike. The homemade dagger pushed its way, without grace and ease, into the neck of the beast, and it released me immediately, jerking away in shock and pain. It stumbled and howled before crumpling to the grass in a heap, whimpering and snapping at me.

I took no chances. I stood, ignoring the intense pains in my body and the blood drenching my clothes, and made my way to the rabbit, picking it up and cradling it against myself. I then rushed back into the shack, hiding in one of the spaces between broken cabinets and the wall. I didn’t know who was shaking with fear and shock more; me or the bunny. I squeezed it tight.

“It’s okay, Mr Whiskers,” I cooed, using the pet name I’d given my stuffed rabbit all those years ago, “I’ll take care of you, Tayler will bring medicine or a healing spell and you’ll be right as rain, won’t you?” I rocked back and forth. I let out a chuckle. Oh I knew what Tayler would say about this…

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You got yourself injured, this badly, by an adult Springpaw, for a rabbit?” I winced as she applied some of the healing salve she carried to my wounds. “You’ve never studied their behaviours or anything, you moron, let alone seen one in the wild. Exile really has fucked with your mind already.”

Tayler had shown up the next afternoon. She’d found me and Mr Whiskers sleeping – ‘unconscious’ she said.

“I’m sorry if I can’t sit by and have something as innocent as this poor rabbit die in front of me,” I shot back. Tayler has always given me shit about liking rabbits. She cared either way for them, but she always made sure to dig into me about it.

“Well it’d better be super fucking special if you made me use most of this stuff on it first, you fucking idiot.” She slapped the side of my head with her free hand, a playful scowl on her face.

“I don’t get why you couldn’t just use a healing spell, Tay. After all you are a super-hotshot royal mage with father’s approval now.” She tensed, and something flashed over her eyes. It was only for a fraction of a second, but I saw it. I always saw these things with my sister. I’d struck a nerve.

“Yeah… Approval right, yeah that’s what I’ve got. I told you, I’m exhausted,” she sat back wiping the excess healing salve onto a cloth, “He’s had me practising more than ever now. He’s had me do demonstrations and upping my tutorials and it’s hard enough getting sleep knowing you’re out here, but actually getting to visit you? That’s a hard one.”  
I sighed. I figured she’d be paying the price for my failure, but she was taking it in her stride. I could see she was exhausted too, and the thought of her soon to be arranged, arranged marriage to another Highborn house wasn’t helping.

“We’ll deal with him, don’t worry. He’ll get what’s coming to him, one way or another. The fuckwit will pay.” I levelled a hardened stare at her. She nodded solemnly in agreement. She looked outside before placing the rest of the healing solution on the collapsing tabletop.

“I have to get going, it’s getting late and I’m only supposed to be out for a leisurely ride.” She stood and brushed her casual riding gear down for dust. “Ugh, these things are so restricting, robes are far more practical. And comfortable, but whatever. I’ll try and be back every second day, or at every opportunity. I’ll bring back some more healing things, maybe a potion or two if I can get my hands on the ingredients. And definitely some more leather armour for you, if you’re going to be fucking reckless and attack the wildlife without knowledge. Put that thing to good use and feed yourself.”

“I will, and I’ll save some for you for next time,” I grinned as we walked to her flamboyantly coloured Hawkstrider. She made a face and a retching noise.  
“As if I’d eat that. Kitchen made meals for me only, thank you very fucking much.” She looked back at me before she got on her mount, sympathy and worry in her eyes. “I’ll try to convince him to let you come back, no matter what. Are you sure you’re okay out here?” I nodded.

“I have the locals in the town over yonder to steal from if I need anything. Besides, I have Mr Whiskers to talk to while you’re not here.” She shook her head as she embraced me in a tight hug.

“You’re so fucking weird, big brother.”


	4. Aftermath - Tayler + Marcusne

MARCUSNE

 

One second, I was yawning for the sixth time watching another spoilt high born lady manipulate fire, the next I was being pushed frantically to the door by my mother. 

“Shit, fuck, we all knew this was going to happen but we had all hoped, all of the houses had at least hoped-”

A blistering ball of fire slammed into the wall a few metres away from her and she let out a terrified scream and crouched to the ground. Father and Uncle Ilain had already run out, leaving us to struggle ourselves through the panicked crowd. My eyes darted around the room in a panic, scanning for any way out. Spending so much time in the woods, my mind was accustomed to building routes through places where there were none. Still, I found nothing. All I saw was Keltoi, my fellow Magicians’ Academy classmate, being overtaken by his own father’s forces. His twin sister, who I didn’t know half as well, was batting at her father, screaming like a banshee with every fireball the guards let fly. I heard a whimper from my mother beside me. I turned to her and clutched her arm. 

“They wouldn’t dare to hurt us mother, you know that.” I assured her. 

The death of Highborns during a Casting? That would be a death sentence for a Blood Elven house. As if it’s not shameful enough to have a son who could not muster the slightest bit of magical ability, not even I was that bad, I could at least perform one healing spell. A roar made its way through the crowd suddenly, and I heard La’rai screech from somewhere in the room. The screams fell silent and everyone had turned back to the Casting stage. Tayler stood where Keltoi had been, the latter was nowhere to be found. Vanished, into thin air it would seem. Shocked mutters of ‘where’d he go’ worked their way through us, but then a guard called out with conviction “He’s still here!” and the barrage of deadly magical attack resumed, this time even more lethal as they had no visible target. 

“If you’re still here, you good for nothing traitor, know this: You are hereby banished from this land and those under my rule. If you ever, ever step foot in in these lands again, you will be killed on sight, you hear me? Never, ever, come back!”

A death sentence against his own son, I never thought I’d see this happen in my lifetime. Of course it had happened in the past. It was one of Uncle’s favourite stories to tell me as a child, how the princess Gi’laria was beheaded by her father for not proving herself worthy at her Casting. My heart ached for Keltoi, but I couldn’t feel too sympathetic. I saw him in classes, he had only begun trying a few weeks ago, otherwise he’d sit back and flick his fingers lazily. His sister and he would argue viciously during lessons, lengthening them significantly. They weren’t our favourite classmates. Also the fact that he’d shamed his family by failing the Casting, as much as I willed not to feel vaguely offended, it is something that was hammered into us since we were infants. I made a mental note to berate myself later.

I turned back to mother, her short blonde hair was all I saw, her face was toward the platform again. The onslaught of fire had stopped, and all that was left on the marbled stage was the collapsed body of a woman. Tayler’s sobs echoed throughout the clearing and everyone was staring at her – low- and Highborn alike. A good minute or two passed, and to everyone’s surprise it was not her father who stepped forwards, but instead her mother. They looked almost identical, but of course Tayler’s mother looked a good thirty years 

older than her daughter. She grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. 

“Good Elves of the houses of our kingdom, I give you our new lord! My daughter, Tayler!” 

A quiet rumble of applause petered out very quickly. Such an extravagant announcement was out of place. Their father stepped in again, and pushed the woman aside with force, scowling at her. She sat meekly back down in her chair, but crossed her arms and returned it as soon as he looked away. The man stalked around Tayler as he positioned himself centre stage. 

“I must apologise for this afternoon’s events. You have all undoubtedly travelled vast distances to witness the casting of my daughter-”

“And son!” Tayler cried. 

He spoke only louder to drown her out. 

“And I am sorry that it has had to end this way. We only follow such strict protocol to provide our kingdoms with the highest and most noble leaders we can, to make things better for our people and lead the Blood Elves to glory!” 

As if on cue, riotous applause erupted within a few of the higher born houses than my own. It’s as if that simple statement had erased everything that had happened from their memories. My own mother included, who nudged my side. I reluctantly put my own hands together, and felt suddenly sick at the scene I was a part of. Smouldering rubble littered the ground, children had tears streaming down their faces, people were still cowering behind chairs and we were all on our knees, applauding a man who had just tried to kill his own son at all costs and pushed away his terrified daughter. I glared up as he stood over the people, a smug grin sliming its way over his face the louder the applause got. I couldn’t turn into that, there is no way I would become that. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, look at your robes!” mother fussed, brushing away at the embroiled sleeves of my disgustingly green ceremonial robes “These cost five hundred gold a piece, and now they’re ruined!”

“Please Dassilia, there are more important things that we still have other than Marcusne’s robes.” Father scoffed, picking at the hawkstrider leg he reluctantly took from the Orcish kitchens. 

“I know, I know, but I don’t want to have to get the servants to make another. You know how long it takes them and-”

“Not here Dass, do not let them overhear you.” 

I looked to a young male Orc in the corner of the room, prodding the fire and making sure it stayed alight to provide us with warmth and a way to cook us more food if we desired. None of us would take him up on the offer though, we never made servants overwork. We tried to do everything ourselves and that’s why mother and father would berate me so harshly when I returned from the woods with nothing. It meant we had to bring in the servants, and it had been happening almost daily recently. Uncle chomped down on his own food and swiftly demanded more from the Orc. 

“Honestly brother, must you?” Mother scoffed, dabbing her mouth with the silken napkin. 

“They were born to serve, who am I to stop them?” he chuckled as the hulking green man replaced his empty plate with a steaming bowl of soup. 

I looked to the Orcs face. It looked grief stricken, as if he had lost something and was trying to hold himself together as best he possibly could. Mother had seemed to pick up on this too and reached out her hand and began to say something but was stopped by father instantly. The Orc walked to La’rai, and commenced to polish her sun-shaded scales. Having no concept of what slavery was, she trilled happily and squinted her eyes in satisfaction. 

“We can’t risk it here, did you not see what happened at the Casting? Uldara is not a merciful man. He would let tradition kill him if it meant staying proper.” Father hissed “Why do you think your brother and I ran so quickly?”

“If he is so big on tradition Ha’rin, he would not kill visitors, especially not those Highborn of other houses. Especially not his neighbours.” She retorted. 

We were Uldara’s neighbours, true, but I had a huge sense of doubt that he wouldn’t attempt to exterminate our entire village if we double crossed him. Nobody is that stupid though, nobody dares to double cross the Blood Elven kingdoms. Lots of races have in the past, but not Blood Elves that have trade agreements with each other. Keltoi and Tayler even seemed to know to an extent how horrible their father was, yet they were subservient to him and Tayler was even excited to come into power. Although, I’d imagine that today’s events were not exactly how she’d wanted everything to happen.

 

TAYLER

 

I awoke after an hour of sleep, by my curtains being forcefully pulled open and the clear purple veil covering my bed was quick to follow.

“Orders of your father lord Tayler, he would like you awake now.” As soon as the Orcish woman had entered, she was gone again. 

Her tone was rough, and almost angry. There’s no way that she could know what I did, I tried to convince myself. I rubbed my eyes and found that my hands were still shaking. Be it from the shock of the previous night’s events, or the lack of sleep that I was able to get, I had no idea. I hadn’t even changed out of my flowing purple robes yet. They were impractical, but made a statement. I’d designed them myself, originally for my mother for when her sister came to visit. They were killed, however, by allied forces in Ashenvale, apparently led by a Draenei hunter. That was years ago though, and since they were so far apart they weren’t that close anyway, so I thought it’d be appropriate that I wore them for my Casting. They had a deep neckline that went below my bust and cut off just below my belly. I wore thin blue silk underneath, so not too much of my skin was exposed. The trail was very long, and granted, made it hard for me to walk up onto the platform and manoeuvre myself properly when I was performing my magic. It was also horrific sleepwear. My legs had been caught up in the trail during the night and the silk undergarments had wrapped around the wrong way and everything just felt uncomfortable. I slipped it all off and started toward the door to my wardrobe room, but was stopped by a commotion outside my window. I looked out and could feel my stomach churn the instant I saw what it was: four of my father’s men, loading a body into the back of a cart. It was wrapped in a white sheet, and I was used to seeing this happen. Peasants would die outside of the castle often, hoping that the higher ups would save their lives, however they all ended up in that cart and dumped into the Dead Scar. This was different though. A charred and blistered arm was swaying outside of the sheet, and all four men were looking up at me. I didn’t care to cover my naked body, my hands went instantly to cradle my face as tears streamed down, and I lost my ability to breathe properly. Father wanted me awake now so he could show me that this wasn’t over, and I was yet to experience the hardest part of my transition. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I yearned with every passing hour to visit my brother, as I knew he would be waiting for me with every second. I couldn’t, I couldn’t risk it yet. Father would expect it, he would expect me to go to Keltoi as soon as I could. I had to spend the next few days convincing father that I was beginning to accept his ‘betrayal’. I would try and slip in little things in conversations with everybody that I could. ‘I tried so hard to help him and all he did was throw it back in my fucking face.” “Don’t worry father, I won’t let you down as he did. I’m sorry I’m just sorting through all of these new responsibilities, I’m very excited.” “Keltoi didn’t deserve our family name, I’m coming to accept that now.” 

I felt sick saying such things, but I was protecting him. I also spent those few days subtly gathering regents for weak spells that could help him if he’d found any trouble on his own, which I’m certain he would have. I gathered herbs from the gardens, gems from my own personal collection and various oddities from the Orcs quarters. I hardly found any time to do even that though, mother and father were overworking me like I had never been before. Every day it was up before the sun, and spells for a good three hours before I was allowed to eat. Then it was public appearances, where I would smile and wave, spout out some “glory to the Sin’Dorai” stuff and then move on to the next village. It was only after three days of constant shit, that I was able to actually find a spare moment to myself, which I used to trick father into thinking that I needed more spell regents as all of my training had exhausted them. I told him I’d go out to the village near the Dead Scar as they had powerful regents I couldn’t find in our own. I saddled up my red Hawkstrider and set off to the shitbox of a cottage that Keltoi would be staying in. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I shook my head again as I set off. A rabbit, a fucking rabbit. He’d almost died for a fucking rabbit. If I had left them another day, he would be dead, along with the stupid animal. Before I left I cast a keeping spell on the slain Springpaw, so it wouldn’t spoil and he would have at least some source of food in the off chance that I couldn’t bring him more gold and silver before he ran out. I conjured a small bundle of straw and a few dozen carrots out on the doorstep for his stupid rabbit and set off back to the kingdom again. I felt a bit warmer after having had seen my brother, knowing that he would be okay for the night – if he stayed away from wild animals that was – so it had drowned out the guilt that I still had over La’Shak that had struck me like a bolt from the sky the minute I passed through the village gates. I checked that my spare gems were still in my pockets as mother would surely ask me what I procured on my trip to the scar. Luckily, they were occupied with dinner, so I went straight up to my chambers. My new handmaiden was dusting my furniture and didn’t so much as to grunt a forced ‘greetings my lord’ as I walked inside. She was much bulkier than La’Shak, and far more intimidating. Her voice was as deep as a male Orc, and her hair was greasy and uncared for. I sat down at my dresser and sorted through my various gems and crystals. Dream essence, vision dust, glimmering shards. If only I could find my mystic essences, then I could do it. I looked over to the Orc. 

“Have you any idea where my mystic essences are?” I quizzed her simply. 

“No my lord.” She grunted, not even looking to me. 

“Well go and get me some.” I demanded, my offended tone almost inherent and subconscious. I immediately backtracked as I saw the charred, dead hand. “Please, I need it for something urgently.” 

She looked to me with angry resent in her eyes. “Right away my lord.”

Her strong steps made me jump as she left. When I was sure I was alone, I pulled open my top drawer and fumbled around for the large linen bag that I hadn’t touched in years. I smiled at it when I found it. “He still has no idea that I’ve had it all this time” I remembered fondly. I reached inside and pulled out a stuffed toy bunny rabbit that mother had made for Keltoi when he was a young child. She had made me a doll of a woman Blood Elf, but Kel pulled its head off and put it in my dinner. He had this thing well into his teen years, and as a bit of late revenge – and because a sixteen year old boy having a doll was weird – I stole it and had kept it in this drawer ever since. I stroked its brown fur, probably plucked from a meat rabbit, although I daren’t tell him that, and placed it on the desk. I placed my hands over it and closed my eyes. A warm tingling sensation worked its way through my bloodstream and eventually it reached my fingertips. The figure began to shrink and shrink until I willed it to stop. Opening my eyes again, I saw it was almost the exact size that I had wanted, the size of my thumb. I grabbed a needle and thread from my sewing box and conjured a small clip that I attached to its left ear. Then, carefully, I sprinkled just the right amount of vision dust over its body, followed by merging it with a glimmering shard. All I needed now was that mystic essence and it would be done.   
She returned within a few minutes and threw a small woollen bag in front of me as I painted my nails. 

“Thank you.” I said more sweetly that I ever had to a servant.

“You’re welcome my lord.” Of course, was the only response I got before she returned to her silent dusting. 

I took out the glowing bottle of pink gassy fluid, with the familiar shining white orb of light floating in the middle of it. I poured some water in a goblet and tipped the essence inside. I picked up Keltoi’s old toy, and carefully submerged it in the mixture. As I let it soak, I turned to the woman. 

“Have you a name?” I asked her. 

“Yanar, lord Tayler, that’s my name.” She scoffed, again not looking at me. 

I couldn’t bare it anymore, my guilt was feasting on my mind and I had to get it out.

“What are the other servants saying about me? What has father told you all?!” I cried, choking on my words. 

Now, she turned to look at me. Her eyes narrow, and her jaw curled into an angry scowl. 

“We do not entertain rumours about our masters my lord.” She was forcing the words out, because her face was telling an entirely different story. 

“Stop! Stop with the formalities for one second; that is an order. I order you to converse with me!” I yelled, and now, she had no reason to hold back. 

“Okay. Your father brought our fallen sister’s body into the kitchens as we ate. Burned and charred, smoke still rising from her blistered face, he slammed her right on top of our food. He looked at us in disgust. ‘My daughter, your new lord Tayler is going to have only the hardest working of Orcs serve in our new kingdom.’ He said ‘This one was weak, and she took no quarter in slaying it on the spot. A lot of you will suffer the same fate, so I suggest you abandon all friendships you have because by the dawn of her wedding half of you will join this one in death.” And before he walked off, he suggested we eat her corpse as he assumed my people did ‘it’s already been char grilled for you.’ He said.”

She stomped towards me in anger. 

“He chose me because he knows I’m not weak. So, you Highborn, pointy faced, pasty little cunt, if you think you can set me alight you better fucking think again because I will snap your pretty little limbs before you can even say alaka-fucking-zam.” 

The tears streaming down my face turned to tears of utter fear as the woman stood fierce and unwavering. 

“Y-You’ll be killed yourself.” I stammered.

“Do you think I give a fuck?” she sneered “It’ll be worth it just to see you get what’s coming to you. But for now, my lord, you leave me alone and I’ll let you live.” 

It wasn’t very reassuring so I went to check on the rabbit, the only thing that felt comfortable in my room at the moment. Pretty much the one person who had never threatened to kill me, Keltoi, and his rabbit was the closest link I had to him right now. The water had returned to its natural clear colour now, the toy had soaked up all of the essence and as I took it out I saw the magnificent purple glow dancing in the air all over it. If Keltoi were to survive with his new power, he would need an enchanted object to increase its power, and lessen his chance of being detected. If he attaches that to his belt, he could stand right in front of somebody’s face and still not be seen. I shoved it back into the drawer and made a mental note to take it to him the next opportunity I had. 

Hours had passed, mother had been in to visit and pester me about my suitor, which was becoming more and more of a pressing issue as the days dragged on, but I had still not been able to decide. It would have to be someone from my Magicians’ Academy as they are the only suitable Highborn men in our area of influence. I told her I had three men in mind, which was a complete lie, I had none, but I had done it to shut her up. Yanar had stopped her work now and was standing against the wall near my door, guarding it and opening it as people needed me. Our doors were always guarded by Orcs, even as we slept, even as we showered, Orcs. You grow up with it, so it’s normal. At least in my kingdom it was. I sat on my bed wracking my brain for someone. I would get to name my own suitor, where as in the past it was a traditional arranged marriage, organised solely by the parents. Although, these days parents still had a very strong influence, but if I pushed hard enough I would get who I wanted. Na’lier was one of the men in my academy, gorgeous as fuck, but had also fucked his way around half of the kingdom. He was also vicious and rude, what I imagined a younger version of my own father would’ve been like. Hashild was bulky, tall and also thirsty for blood. Bal’adan, attractive, a master of the arcane and also, violent. Bal’shor, okay looking, master of frost, once said that all children who disobeyed their parents should be drowned. I was beginning to notice a pattern. Then it hit me, there was one man I knew who had never really shown any violent tendencies, had never once said a word against anyone, which was extremely rare for a high born Blood Elf, even Keltoi had said terrible things, and I’m sure I had too. Normally, I wouldn’t mind who my suitor was, as long as they stayed out of my way once we were married. I had Keltoi to think about though, there is no way I could see him ever again if my husband were violent and controlling, they would have his head the minute I said ‘I’m just going to get some bread from the scar’. I’d be escorted by soldiers, under my brutal husband’s command. Not if I pushed for this one though, from what Kel had said, this man was different; he had more of a Night Elven spirit to him than a Blood Elf one. That’s exactly what I needed, someone who would listen, someone who would help, and someone who wouldn’t kill my brother. That’s when it all came together, and that’s when I had decided, my choice set in stone. 

I wanted Marcusne.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration work by myself and my boyfriend, of our WoW characters. We are fairly new to the entire thing and find it quite enjoyable, and have created in depth intertwining stories with lots of our characters, as well as our friends' who we play with, and they will be mentioned here.
> 
> I will be writing my own characters, Keltoi to begin, and then adding in Azllyn and Xavian, whereas Murr will be writing his own: Tayler and Marcusne, and then adding in others as our story progresses
> 
> As i sad, we are fairly new to the whole thing, and we have made up some lore so that our beginnings to our characters are what we had dreamt up, but will be endeavouring to stick as close to WoW lore as we can throughout.
> 
> This will probably be updated 2 chapters at a time, one from each of us, and quite frequently for now. Feel free to comment and stuff if you want to.


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